


An unexpected glitch in his code.

by ladymdc



Series: Rhack Attack 🥊 [5]
Category: Borderlands (Video Games)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angel (Borderlands) Lives, Anorexia, Anorexic Rhys (Borderlands), Developing Relationship, Fluff, Handsome Jack is an asshole but he's Trying(TM), Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Protectiveness, Recovery, Relapse, Rhys is Handsome Jack's Personal Assistant
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-21
Updated: 2020-07-21
Packaged: 2021-03-04 21:54:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,138
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25403437
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladymdc/pseuds/ladymdc
Summary: Whatever the hell was happening was definitely about more than just dieting.There was an edge to him, a precision that had not been there before. He looked ground down, like a tool that had been honed in excess. Exacting and overly-critical. Like the Eridium had eaten away at Angel, Rhys seemed to be eating away at himself.
Relationships: Handsome Jack/Rhys (Borderlands)
Series: Rhack Attack 🥊 [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1790767
Comments: 22
Kudos: 100





	An unexpected glitch in his code.

**Author's Note:**

> From a kink meme prompt: [Rhys/anyone, fluff, anorexia] I'm not putting much hope into this but pretty please... 👉👈 I keep wishing for an anorectic!Rhys fic, but I know it is a difficult topic.
> 
> First, a preface that I hope everyone reads: 
> 
> When I saw this prompt, it instantly drew me in because I am a "recovered anorectic." I have written about how it still manifests in me today in [TCWM](https://archiveofourown.org/series/1857106). There, Rhys "forgets to eat" as he tries to cope & distract himself from whatever is causing him stress. Ever since covid19 hit, this is me. I have lost more weight than I care to admit & I also hate admitting a part of me enjoys that, but it is nothing that's pushing me into the danger of a relapse. I like to believe enough time has passed for me (about 13 years) to know my self-destructive habits & how to keep my head above water. 
> 
> Anyway, prior to this note, anorexia is not something I've ever come out & admitted to outside of those who "needed to know." Like all mental health issues, it's hard to put them on display. Again, Rhys' struggles here are largely based on my personal experience. For me, it went beyond my negative body image & was largely a control aspect. I had a rough childhood/early adolescence, & apparently, something had to give. I am certain that's why I'm currently struggling with the aftereffects of it today when I haven't in years. 
> 
> With all that being said, I hope that if anyone has an issue with how I present it here, I BEG OF YOU, please remember that it is different for everyone. My experience is not going to be yours.

Jack could not remember what he had said, exactly, just that it had compelled Rhys out of his arms and penthouse with a tired smirk. 

Although those details were foggy, what had been abundantly fucking clear was that, while Jack was trying to break free from his cute-but-quickly-tipping-into-not-cute fixation on his hot as fuck PA,  _ something _ had happened. It had only been just over a month since they last fooled around. Granted, it felt like eons ago, but the point was, when Jack finally decided to give in to what he  _ wanted,  _ he had barely recognized Rhys. 

And Jack saw him practically— every. goddamn. day. 

Long seconds had ticked by as he trailed his thumbs over Rhys’ skin, feeling the ribs there. He had always been thin, but not…  _ devoid  _ of muscle or hints of softness. Jack could not stop himself from wondering how he had tuned it out so thoroughly.

_ Again.  _

He had probably said something cutting to drive Rhys off. It was his go-to defense mechanism, after all. And when Rhys grabbed his shirt, his vest and jacket, and then left, it was as if he had never been there. Just like Angel. 

Jack kept replaying the last time he had seen her. She had been emaciated, skin deathly pale and paper-thin. Angel wouldn’t even look at him. She had been resigned; accepted she was nothing more than a means to an end. That she was already dead, and it was just a matter of time before her body caught up with reality. It was then that Jack realized he had already destroyed the only thing he had left. 

So, he did the only thing he could and had let Angel go. 

She had barely any strength but somehow found enough to walk to the med wing unassisted. The security escort giving her a wide berth, her head held high; Jack had never been more proud. He did not know where she was now, but undoubtedly, it was better than there with him. And Rhys, well, to say Jack was legitimately stunned when he still showed up at work the following day was a fucking understatement. Jack was reasonably sure the startling change was somehow his fault.

They had been working together for a couple of years now, and fucking around semi-regularly for the past six months. Initially, Rhys had drawn Jack’s attention with landing that lucrative as all hell Eridium deal. He was young and driven. Not to mention, he was easy on the damn eyes. And when Jack learned Rhys was getting cyberware, extreme risks be damned, simply to give himself an edge… Jack had shown up unannounced post-op to offer him a job. 

He had proven himself beyond useful. Rhys willingly kept Jack’s secrets; his loyalty was in-fucking-disputable. Considering how much time they spent together, Jack supposed something more personal developing between them had been inevitable. He  _ liked _ Rhys, and accepting that shit had not been something easily done. A few years ago, Jack would have simply killed him for that and moved on. It had taken time for Jack to wrap his head around it all, but now, it felt like he had, yet again, destroyed the only thing he had left. 

Rhys wouldn’t even look at him; he was being resigned. 

For now, Jack left him alone about it. They had work to do, and it gave him time to observe and process the situation. Physically, Rhys looked relatively normal, just thinner than usual. His cheekbones were sharper, and his shirt was uncharacteristically buttoned all the way, hiding not only the ridges of his tattoo but also how his collarbone protruded. 

However, by the end of the day, Jack had the emerging realization that there was something seriously wrong. Rhys seemed to be living off of black coffee when he was more of the type to eat an entire pint of espresso frogurt for breakfast. Jack had seen him do it more than once. The fucking weirdo. Then he’d go to lunch with his idiot friends. But Rhys never left Jack’s wing, and whatever the hell was happening was definitely about more than just dieting. 

There was an edge to him, a precision that had not been there before. He looked ground down, like a tool that had been honed in excess. Exacting and overly-critical. Like the Eridium had eaten away at Angel, Rhys seemed to be eating away at himself— an unexpected glitch in his code. 

Sort of like how when the door between their offices fwished open, Rhys didn’t come in. He just partially stood in the doorway to keep it from sliding shut and looked at some indefinite spot beyond him. Behavior Jack could not even begin to pinpoint when he had seen last. 

“I got that account Acquisitions mishandled straightened out, and I’ll—” Rhys’ shoulders tensed as Jack began to cross the room. “Look at all of the preliminary budgets for next fiscal year first thing next week unless you want the summary breakdown sooner.”

“It can wait, but this can’t.” Jack reached out to touch Rhys’ chin, gently encouraging him to meet his gaze. His mechanical hand at his side opened and closed while he hesitated then finally complied. 

Rhys’ expression was strained, as though he wanted to be anywhere, anywhere else in the universe, but where he currently was. 

“Not anymore,” Jack told him. 

His mouth twisted slightly. “That isn’t fair, Jack. I work for you. I can’t approach you when things between us go south. I just have to live with it.”

Jack blinked, and his hand fell away. He had known the imbalance between them worked out in his favor. It was designed that way, like everything else in his empire. However, the reminder at this specific moment in time felt like an additional weight in his chest. 

“I’m— sorry,” Jack managed, unsure of the last time he had uttered that word to anyone. Or, if he ever had. “The past month, I was trying to put a stop to this before it went too far, but it already has. Alright?”

Rhys drew his brows together but still nodded as the slightly wounded look in his eyes, something haunted and betrayed, eased.

“And last night…” Jack stepped closer and captured Rhys’ face with his hands. Looked up the slight difference in height between them. It was something that used to annoy Jack in the beginning, but now he just didn’t want to lose it. “Whatever is going on with you just caught me by surprise, and I—” 

“—hate surprises, I know,” Rhys said, mouth quirking faintly. 

Jack felt himself unwind a little until he moved his hands to Rhys’ shoulders and felt how  _ narrow _ they were. “Yeah, well, then you should have figured out that I’m stupidly in love with you long before I did.” 

He did not know what he expected. For Rhys to fall into his arms like he wanted? For Rhys to say he felt the same? For him to get angry and walk off, like Jack  _ deserved? _

The smile Rhys gave was bitter. “I’ve been a little preoccupied,” he said, then gestured toward himself. “And this isn’t going to go away just because you’re trying to fix things between us all of a sudden. It’s never going to go away, and I just— I don’t think I can do this right now. Not after last night. Not while I’m still trying to figure out if this is just a stumble or a relapse.”

Jack stared at him, his stomach dropping sharply at the evident breakdown of trust between them. He would have let Rhys go before if that was what he really wanted, but now… Things seemed too precarious, and Jack did not want to allow someone else who  _ mattered _ to waste away while he did nothing. He took Rhys’ hand, and when he didn’t stiffen or try to pull away, Jack tangled their fingers together and gently dragged Rhys into him.

The door slid shut with a click of finality.

It took a moment, but eventually, Rhys wrapped his prosthetic around him in return. 

“Stay with me this weekend, so we can figure it out. All of it.”

“I don’t know, Jack,” he murmured, but then relaxed more into his hold as if Rhys couldn’t quite carry it all by himself anymore. 

“Come on, Rhys. You really going to walk off and leave me zero for three here?”

“The fact I’m still standing here should be a pretty clear indicator that’s not entirely true.” 

It seemed easy then, for them to lean into one another, for Jack to press his face then lips to Rhys’ throat. Rhys sighed, releasing Jack’s hand to wrap his arms tightly around him. It felt natural, it settled the pain in Jack’s chest and turned it into something more welcome.

“Kitten—” 

“You’re not going to be able to charm it into submission, either.” 

“I fucking love a challenge.”

“I’m serious,” Rhys said, then sighed as he pulled back— pulled  _ away.  _ “I’ve had years of therapy. I fundamentally understand what’s wrong with me, but that doesn’t make me process it rationally. The last time we were together, you picked me up and said something about feeding me too much—“

“I was joking,” Jack said, absolutely horrified. “I  _ liked _ that you had put on some weight.”

“How was I supposed to know? Not too long after that, everything came to a full stop. You hardly looked at me unless you needed to, and yesterday…” Rhys shrugged loosely. “I just thought I had fixed whatever you didn’t like about me until you said otherwise.”

His mouth quirked into a self-deprecating smile. Jack couldn’t defend himself against that, so he wouldn’t try. “I guess we all have our problems.”

Rhys gave him a small, wavering smile back. “At least you’re letting me corner you about them for once.”

Absently, Jack nodded. “Have you eaten at all today?” he asked, finally honing in on what neither of them wanted to address outright.

“No,” was his barely audible admission. “I haven’t been hungry.”

Sighing, Jack ruffled his fingers through his hair. “What the hell do you want me to do, Rhys? I really don’t want to walk away from this.”

“I don’t want you to either. I want to figure this out,” Rhys said, looking away as his incredible mismatched eyes abruptly filled with tears. “All of it.”

_______________________________________________________________________________

For Jack, figuring it out involved a lot of patience and slightly less trust. Rhys had been honest. He knew the facts and science. He fundamentally understood what was wrong with him, front to back, but what he could not seem to process rationally was how to course correct.

There was a fine line between him eating, and gaining weight, and complete disintegration. Anorexia was like a virus. It endlessly mutated and distorted how Rhys saw himself. Overwhelming his need to have absolute control over something no matter how self-destructive it ended up being. It seemed as if Rhys thought if he could fix the eating, it would fix the eater.

They got through the first several weeks by clinging to a routine.

And a lot of goddamn ramen for dinner. 

On a good day, Rhys would eat everything in the bowl, even the pork belly. 

It took a lot longer than Jack would have liked. Months, in fact. But somewhere along the way, Rhys regained control over his thoughts. He slowly filled back out. 

When he bent over, the skin on his belly started to fall into natural folds again. His spine was still visible to a certain extent, but it was no longer the concerning protrusions from his body. Jack could feel it under his palm as his hand idly trailed up and down the expanse of skin. A soothing action for himself as much as it was for Rhys, who had fallen asleep on top of him while they watched a movie. 

It had ended long ago. The system had timed out from being idle, and the holo-screen cast a faint bluish-violet glow into the room. His mask was on the table alongside Rhys’ arm. They both had their problems, but they both figured out that it was not anything to hide from one another. 

Rhys was back at his apartment most nights now. Not because he didn’t want to be at the penthouse, or with Jack, but because he felt normal again. He had remembered that living was about more than surviving. It was about more than pretending everything was fine when, in reality, he was barely hanging on. People relapsed because they lost touch with how they felt or what they needed. 

It was a lesson Jack did not expect to learn again, but the hero and the saved were often one and the same. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to ghost, key, & lara for the help & support throughout writing this. 
> 
> As always, thanks for reading. ♥️


End file.
